Page 25 of What a Wolf Demands

If a trainee Hunter at the Lodge had given him an excuse like that, he would have assigned the male to kitchen duty for a month.

She’d seemed shocked when he apologized, then angry when he said the kiss didn’t mean anything. He’d have to ask Remy about that one because he certainly didn’t understand it. Was she mad at him for kissing her or upset that he’d expressed regret over it?

He should have used the syringe from the beginning. They could have avoided this whole mess.

Except he hadn’t expected her to run. He sure as hell hadn’t expected it to take so long to catch her. Every time he’d gotten close, she’d somehow evaded him.

Which was why he couldn’t grant her request. He glanced at her. “No separate rooms.”

She bristled. “Why not?”

“Because I said no.”

“That’s not a reason.”

He drew in a breath and held it. She was as bad as Remy or Lizette. Neither one backed off a question until they were satisfied with the answer.

An Arsenault family trait.

Or maybe it was a French thing.

And now he was smack in the middle of Cajun country.

The universe had a wicked sense of humor.

More likely, it was just fucking with him.

“Why can’t I have my own room?” Lily asked, an edge in her voice.

His release of breath wasn’t a sigh. Not quite. “You’re technically a prisoner, Ms. Agincourt. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

She snorted. “What are you going to do, tie me up? Chain me to the bed?”

Her tone wasn’t seductive, but his brain didn’t care. Erotic images slammed into his mind anyway. Her on a bed—her head thrown back, pink lips parted on a gasp, red hair fanned on the comforter. He clenched his jaw as he eased them up to a red light.

An awkward silence descended. In his peripheral vision, her cheeks turned bright pink. She opened her mouth, then abruptly shut it. She’d obviously realized how provocative she sounded.

That damn kiss again, lingering in the air like a cloud over their heads.

Should he say something? But what, though? “Only if you want me to?”

He’d have to kick his own ass if he let something that lame escape his lips. Besides, he had no business flirting with her.

If Remy were here, he’d crack a joke or find a clever way to change the subject. He was good at putting people at ease. Especially women. It was one of many reasons females flocked to him. Until Sophie, that is. From the moment they met, he had eyes only for her. It was the same with Max and Lizette.

Hell, the whole Lodge was in love these days. Maybe it was good to get away, after all.

Lily cleared her throat. “When will you take me to Bon Rêve?”

He let some of the tension drain from his shoulders. This was a safe, neutral subject. “Morning.”

“I won’t get a fair trial there. I won’t get a trial at all. They’ll just kill me.”

So that was her angle. The light switched to green. He shot her another look as he drove forward. “You want me to take you to a different territory? Is that it?”

“Yes.” She turned toward him again, one hand on the center console between their seats. The sugary scent of rum filled the air. “If you take me to Bon Rêve, I’ll die.”

Her voice was matter-of-fact. He was no Seeker, but even he could hear the conviction in her tone. She really believed her life was in danger. He reviewed everything he knew about the Louisiana Territory, which wasn’t much. The wolves there kept to themselves, rarely venturing outside the bayou. That wasn’t unusual for werewolf communities, which generally disliked outsiders. The Alpha—a male named Gregoire Levesque—had a reputation for being quiet, but Dom had never heard anything negative about him.

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